CAROLEE BENNETT SHERWOOD

bare chests

October 27, 2009

I’m terrible at paying attention to the small details of my life. It’s a liability as a mother and a poet, but one of the things I know for sure is that being surrounded by bare-chested boys is so delightful. It is one of the gifts I’ve been given. (It’s not exactly the season for bare chests in the Northeast, but at our house, we know skin is easier to clean than clothes. We’re not exactly careful when we splash our pumpkin guts around.)

Sometimes it feels like I spend so much of my energies scrabbling for time to myself that I am in danger of missing out on the small prosaic miracles of my boys. Fortunately they’re always there to snap me out of it, an endless tug-of-war…